I Loved and Lost Twice
by mrs. stella malfoy
Summary: What if Voldemort actually did have a heart? What if he met someone and fell in love? What if he lost her? Twice. ONESHOT.


DISCLAIMER: If you honestly believe that I own Harry Potter or any of the characters, then you're more delusional than previously thought. You might want to get that checked out. Anyhoo, enough rambling. On with the story!

I Loved and Lost…Twice

"What have you done?" The horrified scream rang though the air and echoed off the walls as everyone in the room froze. The hysterical girl turned to her fallen friend, tears streaming down her face. She shook the girl softly. "Ginny?" No response came from the petite red-head. She tried again, shaking the girl harder and raising her voice. "Ginny?" Nothing. "No," she cried, pulling her best friend onto her lap, and clinging to the girl like her life depended on it.

"No, no, no," she repeated over and over, rocking back and forth, Ginny's head lolling about as they swayed. After a few moments, the distressed girl's tears began to subside. "I'm so sorry, Ginny," she whispered, kissing the girl on her forehead. "Goodbye."

She turned to her audience, a murderous look on her face. She slowly rose to her feet and sought out the person she knew to be responsible. There he was. She'd recognize those eyes anywhere. It was the hatred behind them she couldn't recall.

"YOU!" she screamed, marching forward, wand outstretched before her. "You did this!"

The creature in front of her smirked. "My dear girl, as you clearly saw, it was not my hand that cast down young Miss Weasley."

"You ordered it done!" she bit back venomously. "So it's your fault!"

"I did no such thing -," he began to defend, but was, in his opinion, rudely interrupted.

"BULLSHIT! It's your fault and you know it, don't try to deny it!" she raged, angry tears running down her face.

"Why, you're absolutely right, my dear," he replied maliciously, a twisted grin creeping onto his face. "I did order her death. But she is only a muggle-loving traitor, so there is no big loss."

"HYPOCRITE!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I called you a hypocrite. You promised me you wouldn't do this anymore. Not after your father. You promised! But you've lied to me before, so why should now be any different?" she bit out scathingly.

"Young mudblood, I have only heard of you. Never have I actually met you, let alone promise you anything, before now. So answer me this; how could I have lied to you?"

The girl never broke eye contact with the monster before her as she shook her head. "I am so disappointed in you. You were such an amazing student. You could have been a healer, or a teacher, just like you wanted. But you threw that all away. And for what? Nothing. You lost a couple of things so you threw everything and everyone else away."

"NO!" he roared. "No. They all left me. I was left with only my loyal followers. They stayed true to me when no one else would."

"That's not true," she whispered.

"And how would you know anyway?" he growled.

"I cared."

"How could you have cared? I'm old enough to be your grandfather!"

"At the time, we had the same age. We were seventeen and in love." She smiled at the fond memory. "But that's gone now. And it's on you."

"That's impossible. You don't look a day over eighteen." He paused upon seeing the sparkle around her neck. Closer inspection found it to be a locket resting on a thin, silver chain. It was familiar.

And then he remembered. He had given it, or one almost identical, to his girlfriend when he was still a 7th year at Hogwarts. His eyes narrowed as he snarled at her, "Where did you get that?"

She looked down to where his stare landed on her. Her hand unconsciously rose to rest on the metal hanging around her neck. "You gave it to me," she replied, lifting her sad gaze to meet his hard one.

"No," he said sharply. "I gave that to the only person who ever loved me. Now I demand to know where you got it!"

"You gave it to me on Valentine's Day. It was so romantic. Remember, you took me on a walk 'round the grounds and it started to snow. We went to our spot under the willow by the lake and there was a picnic set up. Oh, God, I remember you had made chocolate covered strawberries for us to eat. But you used white chocolate, my favourite. I remember when it got dark, I looked up at the stars. I got cold and asked you for a blanket. But instead you put this 'round my neck." She smiled softly. "I told you I would never take it off. And I haven't since you put it on me. See, unlike you, I keep my word."

"That has to be a coincidence. You must have one that just looks the same," he yelled disbelievingly.

"It's engraved Tommy!" she yelled back, startling him with the use of his name. "'Never let go.' Remember? You promised we would be together forever. And that we should never let go of that promise!" she cried, becoming angry.

He looked taken aback for a moment. Regaining his composure, he stepped forward out of the shadows to look at the girl before him. She had honey brown hair that fell in soft ringlets just past her shoulders. Her amber eyes sparkled with tears behind her thick, dark lashes. And though her face was blotchy from crying and dirty from all the fighting, he could see her resonating beauty. She was small, no taller than 5 feet 5 inches, but her body was proportioned well. He felt a sense of familiarity as her neared the distraught girl.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "God, Tommy! Why won't you remember?" She opened her eyes and looked up at his handsome face. (How he had regained his twenty-one-year-old body was beyond anyone's knowledge but his.) His eyes were empty. She hung her head and cried silently. "I thought you loved me," she whispered. No response came from the man before her. She raised her hands to her face, inadvertently raising her ripped and bloodied shirt, revealing a small view of the skin on her stomach.

And there it was. That little tattoo of a coiled snake, just above her hipbone. He finally realized who was standing before him. It was his girlfriend. She had disappeared, and no one knew what had happened to her or where she went. He had searched high and low for her, but it was to no avail. And that's when the chaos had started. That was when he became Lord Voldemort.

But she stood before him now looking just as her had last seen her. "Mya?" he whispered.

Her head snapped in his direction when she heard the affection nickname he had given her. She smiled and sniffled.

"Mya, is that really you?"

She laughed happily, moving toward him. "Yes," she whispered.

His eyes iced over. "You left." There was a stone cold tone to his voice.

"No! No, I didn't, I -," she stuttered.

"Yes! You did. I woke up one morning to find you gone. No note, no goodbye, no nothing. You left me to rot in that Merlin-forsaken place!"

"No! Listen please. I didn't want to go. I didn't even know I was going. Just like you, I woke up and I was gone. I ended up in this time, my time. I don't know why or how I left. All I know is that I would give anything to be back with you in 1942. But I can't. No matter how hard I try. And it's been torture."

"What?" he asked incredulously. "For who? You? What about me? How long have you been away from me? Huh? Honestly, how long?" he demanded.

"Eighteen months," she replied meekly.

"That's all? A year and a half," he began softly. "I've been without you for _55 Goddamn years_. That is torture."

"I'm sorr-,"

"Don't apologize to me!" he snapped. "There's nothing you can do about it now."

"NO! I _am_ sorry. I'm sorry that you became this horrible person. I'm sorry you have people following you who don't respect you, but fear you. I'm sorry that I left you. And I'm sorry…I'm sorry that I hurt you. I can't believe I hurt you to the point where you thought this was your only option in life," she looked at him pleadingly. "Tommy you can do so much better than this. This is nonsense. Dangerous nonsense. I just wish you could see that. And I wish you could see yourself the way I saw you. As a worthwhile person. Who I believe has made the biggest mistake of their life." She hung her head again in disappointment.

"My only mistake was trusting you," he whispered.

Hermione raised her head, a steely look in her eyes. "You are the most wretched…_thing_…I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I wish I had never gone back in the first place. Then I wouldn't have wasted the last year and a half loving you. And the two years before that being your girlfriend! I could have been with someone who actually _has_ a heart and could love me back."

"I did love you."

"Yeah right. The only thing you love is killing innocent people," she scoffed, crossing her arms and looking away.

"Those people are polluting the magical world."

"NO! You are! The more people you kill, the less people there will be to create more witches and wizards. We'd have to resort to inbreeding, which, by the way, is the leading cause of squibs in our world. So it's you who's polluting and _destroying_ our world. Not them," she spat.

"Maybe I should just kill you now and me done with it. Exact my revenge so I can finish my days in peace," he pondered out loud after a pause.

"Maybe you should. Go ahead. Kill me," she responded dismissively, opening her arms in a challenging way.

"I'm not going to kill you. But by the time I'm done with you, you're going to wish you were dead."

"I've been wishing I was dead for a long time."

Voldemort regarded her with interest. "Really? And just how long is that?"

"Five years."

"Really? And have you done anything to remedy that situation?"

"Nothing you should, or rather, _would_ concern yourself with."

"And why is that?"

"What is with all the questions?" 

"I am merely trying to satisfy my curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Ah, yes, but satisfaction brought him back. Now tell me all about the goings-on in your depressed life."

"Why? It's nothing special. And as I said, that is no concern of yours," she spat. "You gave up the right to concern yourself with me the moment you became this monster." She reached up and ripped the chain from around her neck and threw it at him.

His eyes darkened. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," she mocked. "It's my life, not yours. Although, I'm not sure I'm going to have one after tonight."

"As I said before, I'm not going to kill you."

"Whoever said you were?" she replied dismissively.

"Then what -," Realization dawned on his face. "Why? Why would you do that?"

She shrugged. "I have nothing else to live for. Ron and Harry hate me, and the man I thought I was going to marry just ordered the death of the only friend I have…_had_ left. Oh! And my parents disowned me. I have _nothing_…to love for. So why should I bother living at all?"

The man in front of her sighed. "Don't do that. Merlin, I thought I could do this, but I guess I can't. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you left. I've dwelled in the past for so long. I convinced myself you were gone for good and that if you could stop loving me, I could stop loving you. But I guess I can't. I tried, and I failed. I still love you Mya. And I always will." He reached his hand out to touch her face. "Come back to me. Join me on the dark side. We can be together again. Forever. We can be happy again and rule the magical world together."

She turned away from him. "I can't, Tom. I'm sorry." She backed away and pulled something out from under her tattered robe. "I'm sorry," she said again. "But I don't want to hurt anymore." He looked to what she held in her hand. A pistol. His eyes widened.

She continued backing away, raising the pistol to her right temple as she did so. Silent tears found their way down the old, dried tear tracks on her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered a final time.

Voldemort stepped forward, hands outstretched. "Mya, no!"

BANG!

But it was too late. The shot echoed throughout the chamber, followed by the sound of Hermione Granger's body meeting the cold, hard ground, a heartbroken expression on her face.

Voldemort's face fell, and he frantically rushed to her body, sliding the last metre on his knees as the Death Eaters around him cheered. He lifted her upper body onto his lap as he had seen her do earlier with the Weasley girl. Leaning is ear toward her mouth, the listened for any signs of life. He heard none, so he tried to find her pulse. He found none. She was dead.

"Silence you fools!" he rumbled dangerously.

"But milord," someone was daft enough to say. "You have the upper hand! She was the brain behind the Order. You are sure to win now!" he cried happily.

The Dark Lord raised his gaze to meet that of the young man in front of him. "Crucio," he whispered. The man writhed and screamed in pain. After a time, he lifted the curse. "Now maybe you can appreciate a small fraction of how I'm feeling right now."

Lucius Malfoy stepped forward and placed his hand on his master's shoulder. Voldemort looked up at him surprised, holding his love close to his chest. "You really loved her, didn't you?" He nodded, hanging his head once again. "I am truly regretful for your loss, my lord."

"Thank you, Lucius," he began quietly. "You truly are a remarkable man."

"Many thanks my lord," Lucius said, backing away with a bow.

"What do we do now, milord?" a voice in the crowed asked.

Voldemort raised his head, a single tear track lingering on his cheek. His eyes were in a murderous rage. "We kill the only person I can blame for this."

"And who is that?"

"Harry Potter."

A/N: Major brownie points to those who can recognize the two movies I borrowed lines from, and what lines they were. LQTM. Anyhoo. Thank you for reading my random story. It was originally going to be based on a song I heard, but it ended up going in a completely different direction. So let me know what you think. I don't care if you hate it. That's your business, and you don't have to read it anymore if you don't like it. So yeah, review! I'll love you forever.

Stella Malfoy


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